


Give Me a Kiss

by wizardingtributeofhades



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Flashbacks, IT Chapter 2 Spoilers, M/M, Practice Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 00:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardingtributeofhades/pseuds/wizardingtributeofhades
Summary: What happens at Neilbolt brings up more memories then Richie is ready to deal with.





	Give Me a Kiss

“Oh… There he is…”

Spider-Stan leaped from the ceiling, pincers digging into his skin, pulling Richie closer to the gnashing teeth bulging out of his dead friends face. “Come on Rich, We can practice kissing.”

* * *

“Practice kissing?” Stan was pacing back and forth, a growing pile of discarded clothes at Richie’s feet.

“Yeah man. This is your first real date! With Stella Dexhart. Stella fucking Dexhart. You do not want to fuck this up.” Richie shrugged, falling back onto Stan’s bed as he tried on what was probably his 30th consecutive shirt. “I mean if you want to a make a fool of yourself on a date with the hottest girl in school, which is inevitable really, like how did you manage to even land this date.” Stan turned to argue but Richie powered on. “I know, I know. Be polite and blah blah blah, she’s a real person play. I get it. But if you want to look a fool then fine, skip out on my offer.”

“You really thing I need to practice?” Stan looked at himself in the mirror, finally Richie hoped, happy with his outfit. “How do you even know she has experience kissing?”

“She dated Mike Carter. There is no way she didn’t kiss that every chance she got.” He blushed, realizing what he said. “I mean besides, who have you kissed? Eddie’s mom doesn’t count.”

“Does your mom count?”

“Oh Stan the Man gets off a good one. But really, who have you kissed?”

“No one. What about you?”

“Come on Stanny. You know me; I’m a dozen deep at this point. I’m practically swimming in pu-”

“Zero. Got it.” Stan cut Richie off with a well-aimed shirt to the face.

“You know if you’re just going to insult me, you can go fuck up your kiss with Stella, become the school laughing stock and get arthritis by nineteen cause the only action you can get is your hand.”

“Rich, relax.” The bed dipped under Stan’s weight, and Richie’s heart was beating fast enough he was sure Mrs. Uris could hear it down stairs. “You’re right. I do need to practice.”

“Yeah?” Richie jerked upright, nearly head butting Stan in the process. He hated the hopeful list in his voice but the idea of kissing was overpowering his urge to remain hidden.

“Yeah. I don’t want to look like an idiot.”

“Oh so you’re going to be wearing a bag on your head the whole time huh?” Rolling his eyes Stan shifted away. “No wait! I’m sorry. I just. You know me. Beep Beep Rich.”

Stan’s face softened and Richie’s heart skipped a beat. This was a bad idea. There was no way he could do this and walk away the same. His eyes flicked down to Stan’s lips, tracing the curve of it, the light reflecting off them. It was hard to think about anything really, when Stan was leaning in, when their lips were pressing together.

Heat flooded his cheeks, the sound of his heart beating loud in his ears. In a moment of bravery Richie hasn’t had in as long as he could remember, his hand moved to Stan’s shoulder, pulling him just a bit closer. Time was racing forward and moving slower then Richie had ever known it to before, and he lost track of how long they sat pressed close, lips pressing against one another over and over again.

“How was that?” Stan’s cheeks were just as flushed as Richie knew his to be and Richie marveled at how pretty it made Stan look. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. “That good, huh?” With a smug smile, Stan shoved at Richie’s shoulder, snapping him out it.

“Don’t get cocky. That shit was still amateur.” Richie leaned back in with a smug smile of his own. “This time keep the drool to yourself.”

“Fuck you Trashmouth I don’t drool-

* * *

Drool splashed against his face, thick and warm, dripping from Stan’s mouth. Bill and Eddie were screaming, someone’s knee was digging into his hip as they tried to tear Stan off him. It wasn’t Stan. Stan was gone. Stan was dead. This wasn’t Stan. But It looked like Stan, sounded like him, taunting Richie, begging for another kiss.

He didn’t know when Ben got there, but suddenly a knife was sticking out of Stan’s head and Ben was the one attached to the handle. Richie wanted to cry, to stop them from hurting him. It was fucking Stan, how could they do that. The knife plunged in again and again; thick black blood splattering against his face and Richie knew it wasn’t Stan. It was that fucking clown.

As Richie watched, Stan’s wounded deflated head crawl down the stairs he knew what they had to do. He’d done a lot for his friends, flew across the country, came back to this hell hole of town, killed Bowers, trekked through shitty sewers and made it through this fucking crack house 3 damn times, and now he was going to kill that fucking clown once and for all.


End file.
